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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762637">Light Between Our Fingers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtbookworm/pseuds/dtbookworm'>dtbookworm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Henry isn't that bad...sometimes), Angst, Angst and Feels, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Bonding, Comfort, Developing Friendships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It takes two terrible dads to bring together hopeful kids, Late Night Conversations, They're friends...for now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:47:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,849</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dtbookworm/pseuds/dtbookworm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beverly's sitting on the cliff of the quarry late at night, smoking away thoughts of her dad. However, she didn't expect Henry Bowers, out of all people, to find her there. The two end up talking about there dad's. Maybe Henry's not so bad.... for now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Bowers &amp; Beverly Marsh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Light Between Our Fingers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey all. Here's a new short for Henry and Beverly, the kids with daddy issues. I hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trees around her shook in the wind, rattling like maracas to a slow song as Beverly blew out a plume of smoke from her cigarette. At times, she had to turn around to remind herself that, yes, she was indeed alone. No one ever came out here besides her and the rest of The Losers Club. Yeah, this was one of their sanctuaries other than the underground bunker that Ben managed to build. She contemplated on going there to air out her thoughts, but she couldn't handle the tight space, the slight feeling of claustrophobia when climbing down the wooden ladder to the underground. She decided that it was best to head to the quarry, where she could watch the water glint like limestone under the full moon and listen to the trees behind her, the sound of them reminding her of broomsticks brushing away that stubborn piece of dirt that just won't go away.</p><p>It happened again. Beverly's dad almost, but not quite, made his move on his own daughter. It would <em>look</em> innocent from a distance. Maybe a stranger would think that her father was just giving her a fatherly kiss on the cheek, the kind you use when you say <em>goodnight </em>and <em>sweet dreams</em>. It wasn't one of those kisses at all. No, the kiss entered into Pedophileville and Alvin Marsh was the sole occupant. Actually, he was the <em>mayor </em>of the city, as well as the police and the governor. Beverly was in the tub, bathing, enjoying the feel of the lukewarm water warming her skin when her dad came in. Luckily, the tub curtain was drawn so it's not like he could <em>see</em> her. But she knew better. Beverly submerged herself farther into the tub until the water leveled with her shoulders. She just sat in the tub, letting her skin wrinkle, watching her dad's shadow stand there menacingly, his outline drawing fear from her as if there where lacerations in her skin.</p><p>Beverly took another drag of her cigarette, hoping that the fumes would burn away the kiss that was placed near the corner of her mouth where her dad kissed her. What kind of a father did that? What kind of a father <em>lusted </em>after his own daughter? She watched the tops of the trees on the other side of the quarry, envisioning her future. A dad-less future full of...well, something good. She was sure of that. Hell, she found goodness in the Losers and they were her whole world. When she left Derry, she hoped that she would find friends like them. Of course, there was <em>nobody </em>else like them. No one.</p><p>A twig snapped from behind her, then another. Beverly thought nothing of it, assuming it was a squirrel or even one of the Losers. Probably that asshat Richie's there to scare her. Oh yeah, she'd get him back. She wondered if it would kill him if she pushed him into the quarry? Oh yeah, that'd be rich for Richie.</p><p>Only the footsteps weren't light, they were <em>heavy</em>, steps that didn't care about the new clean rug or the fragile pieces of vases near their feet. This person, whoever it was, was wearing boots used for hunting. Used for...</p><p>She fought the urge to turn around. She clenched and unclenched her fist. The cigarette was at its stub and it was burning the tips of her fingers, but she didn't move to toss it. She wondered if this was how the victims of the Blaire Witch felt before they looked into the eyes of their killer. Beverly imagined all the ways she could die, which wasn't <em>too </em>hard considering her life. Buried underground. Shot to death. Tied and gagged before being tossed into the quarry. All the options caused her to spin around, to see who it was that would ned her life.</p><p>"Back up!" Beverly shouted. She managed to pick up a decent sized rock, holding it over her head. "Don't come closer! I mean it!"</p><p>The figure came closer. The first thing that came into view were dark acid washed jeans, followed by a black sleeveless t shirt. Beverly didn't know whether to be relieved or on guard when Henry Bower's face came into view. "What? you gonna kill me?" He asks dryly.</p><p>"The hell are you doing here?" She made no move to lower the rock. She wasn't stupid. Even an idiot could sense that Henry was nothing but trouble. "Stalking me?"</p><p>Henry walked forward. Beverly was about to throw the rock right at his forehead when she realized that he was moving <em>past </em>her. He sat at the edge of the cliff, grunting on the way down. "I'm here because I can be. And I'm not stalking you."</p><p>Beverly threw her cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with her toe. She zipped up her windbreaker and crossed her arms. Who the hell did Henry think he was? Sure, the property wasn't reserved for her and her friends, but this was <em>their </em>place of solace. It's not supposed to remind them of <em>anything </em>that brought them down and that included Henry Bowers. "You can't go anywhere else?" She asked venomously.</p><p>"Nope. I'm staying here."</p><p>"I'm not leaving."</p><p>"I didnt ask you to leave. Stay, go, I don't care. Not my problem." He ran a hand over his head, smoothing out his not so groomed mullet. "Just don't talk to me."</p><p>Hmm. That was unexpected. Usually, he was <em>forceful </em>in getting what he wanted. Beverly expected him to shove her or at the very least throw some dirt her way to scare her (not that either of those things would frighten her). This wasn't the Henry she was expecting. Not. One. Bit.</p><p>A major part of her wanted to leave, to leave Henry to stew in whatever funk he was in. She thought about pedaling away on her bike, leaving him to brood in peace. </p><p>But if she left, it would be like her leaving the door wide open for him to run the place. Oh, yeah, no, she wasn't doing that. Nuh uh. Plus, she didn't really feel like going home just yet.</p><p>She eased herself down, looking out of the corner of her eye to see if Henry would try anything. Nope. He just sat there, one leg over the cliff while the other was drawn toward his chest. His hands were fidgeting and he stared off into the distance as if he was hypnotized by Vladimir Bekhterev himself. She wasn't going to be fooled by this pensive state he was in. Beverly knew better than that.</p><p>Minutes passed by. Both of them said nothing. Beverly's hand itched for another cigarette. She really should stop, it wasn't a good habit. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a pack. </p><p>"Didn't know you smoked," Henry said out of the blue. his tone wasn't curious, just stating a fact.</p><p>Beverly talked around the unlit cigarette that was in her mouth. "You don't know anything about me."</p><p>"I know that you smoke. And that you hang with those other fags."</p><p>She plucked the cigarette from her lips and stared daggers at him. "Those <em>fags </em>are my friends, dipshit. You better think twice before calling them that."</p><p>Henry chuckled. It was humorless, as if Beverly just told an out of date joke. "Or what? You gonna hurt me?" He took out his pocket knife and pushed the sliding button that made the trapezoid like blade appear and reappear.</p><p>"You wanna find out?" Beverly said.</p><p>Henry was silent again, looking over the quarry.</p><p>Beverly started again on her cigarette. She brought out the lighter, but it failed to light. Again and again, the <em>fwip </em>of the lighter caused a spark to appear for a nanosecond, only to vanish. <em>Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. </em>She was distracted by the task that she didnt notice Henry right next to her.</p><p>"Let me do that."</p><p>"I got it," she said. She flipped the switch again. Nothing.</p><p>He snatched the lighter from her grasp, making Beverly groan audibly. "You're not doing it hard enough." With one quick motion, Henry spun the dial, causing a flame to erupt.</p><p>Beverly leaned forward to light her cigarette. She kept her eyes on the flame, not opting to look at Henry. Only when she pulled away did she get a glimmer of his face. In the incandescence, his pale skin was warm. His eyes, usually hard set and malicious were <em>slightly</em> benign and <em>somewhat</em> innocent. His frown was still apparent, carving through his face like a fracture in the Earth's crust. "Thanks," Beverly said tiredly.</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>She took a drag of her cigarette, the nicotine making her lungs quiver. "What are you doing out here?"</p><p>Henry fiddled with his leather cuff. "What do you care?"</p><p>"I <em>don't</em>. I'm just asking because you simply <em>being </em>here is getting on my nerves and I need a lesser of two evils to fill the silence."</p><p>He shook his head like a frustrated single father in the kitchen looming over the bills he has to pay. "Had to get out of the house. My old man was getting on my nerves." He removed the leather cuff and held it in his hands. It could've been just dirt or grime, but on his wrists in the pale light, Beverly saw incision lines. There where purplish bruises running along his wrist, dark and ugly. "You happy?"</p><p>She didn't say anything. No, Beverly, for once, kept her mouth shut. She drew in her legs from the cliff's edge, tucking them under her chin. She couldn't possibly feel sympathy for him. This was Henry Bowers for crying out loud. The racist, chauvinistic, mullet wearing asshole who terrorized the halls of Derry High School. Despite that, she felt something, like she had Henry had a secret language that even they didn't convey to one another verbally. </p><p>She stole a look at Henry. He was rubbing his backside gingerly, hissing quietly every now and then. She quickly looked away when he sensed her eyes on him. "My dad's not exactly Father of the Year either."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"Well, for one he's a <em>janitor </em>who works at the school I hate which is only more embarrassing. And I don't exactly feel safe when I'm with him."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>Maybe this was too much information being handed out. Was Henry even listening? Anyone could ask questions and be uninterested. Beverly touches the corner of her mouth, still feeling her dad's kiss. "I just don't love him the way he loves me."</p><p>Henry only grunted in response. "Beats having your hide beaten." He squeezed his knees, bare due to the purposeful trips. He was holding onto them as if they were rocks jutting out from a mountain. One might give away and he could fall for miles. "Try having a dead beat sheriff for a dad. All he does is go around bossing everyone around, making people scared of him like he's..." He breathes in a shallow breath, like his ribs are made of glass on the verge of breaking. "I just wish I..." He shakes his head.</p><p>"What?" Beverly asks, giving him her full attention. </p><p>"Nothing."</p><p>"Tell me."</p><p>"I said no." Henry crosses his arms, the veins in his arms appearing here and there. "Get off of it."</p><p>They continued to stare into the night sky. One by one, stars were becoming more apparent, making their presence more known by pulsating and beating as if they were musical notes being played. Beverly closed her eyes for a second, just for a measly second, and wished that her mom was there with her. It was a silly wish, a pipe dream that slipped between her fingers like wisps of smoke, but she couldn't help the feeling. The feeling of not having a mother to tell her that she was pretty, to share their love of the piano. Beverly wished that for once, the universe would work in her favor and deliver her mother to her from death's clutches. But of course, that wasn't going to happen. This wasn't a Chooser Your Own Adventure book where she could determine the outcome. No, her mother's dead and she wasn't. It was as simple as that. Maybe not simple, but a mystery that had insubstantial clues.</p><p>"My mom left when I was eight," Henry said, pulling Beverly back to Derry. "He was beating her. Bad. She had to get away from him."</p><p>"She did? And she just...just left you?"</p><p>"Yeah. Left me like I was a fucking puppy. I remember the day it happened. She was losing her shit, crying, packing her stuff. When she was about to leave I asked her where she was going. Didn't even have the balls to tell me the truth." Henry cleared his throat. It was a clearing that suggested that he was talking around tears that were ready to gush. "She, uh, told me that she was going away for awhile. Just to clear her head. So I believed her. Days went by and..." He shut up then, like an airlock door clamping shut.</p><p>Beverly had an <em>idea </em>about what happened to Henry's mom. It happened with most cases, men beating on their wives. It wasn't uncommon at all. But the fact that Henry shared this with her, out of all people, made her feel like she should share something to help negate Henry's feelings of abandonment.</p><p>"I remember when my mom took me to some clearing in Derry. I forget where but I remember that it was something like this. We'd lie on our backs and she'd..." Discreetly as she could, she wiped the corners of her eyes with her finger. She never really talked about her mom, especially not with the school bully, but here she was. "We'd lie on our backs and she'd span her fingers in front of mine."</p><p>"Why?" Henry scooted closer to Beverly, the distance between them closing. </p><p>"She told me once that it was amazing how from here, stars looked like they were closer together. They're millions of miles apart, but from here they look like they're only a few feet away from each other." She held her own hands to the sky and spread her fingers. "She told me that whatever you want in life is within your grasp."</p><p>Henry was quiet. Beverly saw that he was spanning his own fingers. He tried to lift his arm to the sky, but he kept groaning in pain. The bruises on his wrists and the constant motion of him rubbing his backside clicked into place. He didn't just want to get out of the house. No, he was beaten. It probably wasn't too bad because Henry was still standing, but he was hurting like any other person would be. A person. That's what he was. Like Beverly, he was just a person.</p><p>Silently, Beverly put her hand over Henry's. His hand was rough, his knuckles dry and cracked, due to fights and other roughhousing. She waited for him to snatch his hand away, waited for him to stomp off angrily or spew out deadly invective. He stayed calm. She spread her fingers and he obeyed silently. Together, they lifted their hands, looking as though they were in the middle of a high five. Through their fingers, Beverly saw Henry's face. Under the moon light, she saw his eyes for what they were. Blue as cobalt, momentarily unguarded. It was like looking at a sun filled window through prison bars. His lips were thin and his nose softer. A different layer of him, a different shade.</p><p>Abruptly, Henry stood. It was so quick that Beverly nearly fell from the cliff. She stood. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"I gotta get home." It was like he was caught in the middle of having sex with the way he was adjusting himself. "Old man's gonna be pissed if he sees I'm not there."</p><p>Beverly stood, steadying herself. "Did I do something?"</p><p>"I'm fine." His tone was a cold like iron in a Siberia snowstorm. "Night, loser."</p><p>They stared at each other for a moment, boy and girl. Henry stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away. His ectomorph figure was reduced to a shadow, then nothing as he disappeared among the foliage. His footsteps were lighter than when he initially arrived.</p><p>Beverly sat back down on the edge of the cliff, but still turned to see if Henry would come back. No. He was gone. Beverly raised her hand to the sky, the stars between her fingers flickering like a million little campfires. She tried to focus on their beauty, their liminal stages of being born and disappearing. But all she could feel, even when he was gone, was Henry's hand under hers. His hand was like a scared duckling hiding under a bridge, beaten and bruised.</p><p>Sleep assaulted Beverly from behind. She stood, found her bike in the bushes, and rode away on the dirt trail, finding herself hoping that Henry would have sweeter dreams tonight.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! If you like this one, check out my other story in progress "What Do You Know About Us", the main protagonists being Beverly and Henry! ❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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